Midnight
by White Mizerable
Summary: Sometimes he still woke up screaming. Strifehart drabble, no other pairings.


Sometimes he still woke up screaming.

They were terrible nights, filled with dreams of darkness, of blood, of violent blue, of black, pure, pitch black. It's memory as much as fear, a terrible mixture, thick enough with insanity and pain to drown him in its murky flows. Everything burned around him, strangling him in smoke and flame as he gagged on his own sins. And always, always, a long, tormented scream. Sometimes it's him, his own voice, and sometimes it's the voices of others, people he knew, people he recognized, people he'd never seen before. All he wanted to do was beg for forgiveness, to offer himself in their places, to take his own life instead of theirs. He never could. So he watched and he suffered and he awoke to sweat and tears and the sound of running feet.

Tonight, though, there was no scream dying on his lips as he shot up in his bed. He could feel the tears, coursing down over his cheeks, dribbling along the crease of his lips, dripping over his nose and chin. He could feel the heaving breaths struggling their way in and out of his chest, the ragged tension in his throat, the ache as he fought to draw in the air. And he could remember the darkness. The blood, the way it splattered beneath his fingers, thick brown hair matted and tangled with it, gunmetal eyes wide with pain and betrayal-

Cloud bit down hard on his thumb to muffle a sob. It would never happen. He would never allow it to happen. He could never, ever do that, not to _him_. _Oh,_ whispered the echo of his dream,_ but you could, you've done it before, your hands know the feeling, the way to rip away a life, the right way, the perfect way, don't you remember…_?

"No!" It came out a wild hiss, frantic and harsh. The voice quieted, laughing at him and his refusal from the back of his mind, dark and taunting. Cloud shook his head, sweat-slick bangs flopping against his forehead, and scrambled out of bed, throwing the covers aside. He fumbled in the dark of his room, grabbing for the first pair of pants he could find, pulling them haphazardly up his legs with shaking hands. He couldn't stay here, in this place that smelled of panic. He needed to go. He needed to flee. He needed-

Bolting out of his room, clad in only the loose jeans he'd worn the day before, he nearly threw himself down the stairs, racing out of the front door of the Committee's headquarters without pausing to pull on his boots. The air was cold, freezing even, but he didn't feel it, fear a heady adrenaline rushing through his veins as he made his mad dash down the streets of Radiant Garden. This path was familiar to him. He didn't miss a turn despite the fact that he could barely focus on anything but his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, desperate with need, the need to see _him_, alive, whole.

Before he knew it, he was outside the little house, uncaring of the near numbness of his feet or how much it hurt to breathe. The spare key was pulled effortlessly from its hiding place, the door unlocked and pushed open and locked behind him again. Being inside, in such a comforting, welcoming place, his place, soothed at the edge of his frantic mind, but it wasn't enough. He needed to see. So quickly and quietly he went up the stairs, two at a time, and opened the bedroom door.

And there he was. Leon. Asleep, in his bed beneath the window, each gentle breath lifting the blankets covering his body ever so slightly. He was beautiful and peaceful and alive. Cloud let out a helpless, broken sob, his knees trembling beneath him.

Leon awoke in a flash, stormy eyes snapping open and body tensing in preparation. Then those eyes, wonderful, perfect eyes, landed on Cloud, and all that tension drained from his shoulders. "Cloud?" His expression shifted, curiosity to understanding to shock and horror. "Did you run all the way over here like that?" When Cloud could only shudder and clutch at the doorframe in response, he sat up fully in his bed, holding out one hand. "Come here."

Cloud staggered away from the door, his whole body suddenly feeling weak and shaky, threatening to collapse beneath him at any moment. Leon was here, Leon was alive, he hadn't- he hadn't- Fighting back another sob, he fell limply into those warm arms, curled up against his partner's body and buried his face, sticky and wet with old and new tears, in the side of a strong neck.

"Hyne, Cloud, you're freezing!" Leon immediately gathered up the blankets and pulled them up, close around their forms. Cloud clung to him, didn't protest, followed him easily as Leon lowered them back onto the mattress. He breathed in the smell of his partner, of clean hair untainted by blood, of pale skin and familiar warmth. And he cried, breath rattling in and out of his chest, pressing as close as he physically could, not wanting to be even an inch, a centimeter away. To be any distance apart from Leon allowed the darkness to slip back in, the flashes of blood and the screams.

"It won't happen," he mumbled, almost incomprehensible through his gasps and sobs, muffled against Leon's neck. "I won't let it happen. I promise. I promise, I promise, I'll never let it happen." He could feel his whole body shaking, not only from the cold, and he clung tighter, desperate for the proof that his partner was here, was real, was alive.

Leon hummed, quiet and soothing, and ran his hands over Cloud's back, up his neck, through his hair, gentle, calming motions. He let Cloud cry himself out, let him tremble and shake as warmth resettled in his bones, let him cling tightly, too tightly. And Cloud loved him, mouthed the words against Leon's skin through the muddled promises, and Leon knew and loved him too, shared it in his gentle touch. There would be no sleep for either of them that night, they both knew it. Only quiet, and comfort, and watching as the new day dawned.

The nights where he dreamed of darkness and woke without a scream, the nights where the body was Leon, were always the worst. This was not the first time it had happened. It would not be the last. But each and every time, when he awoke with tears on his face and sobs caught in his throat, Cloud knew that there was a pair of open arms waiting for him, ready to hold him close until morning's light came to wash the dark away.

* * *

A/N- For those still with me from Hetalia, hi! I've jumped fandoms, as you can see, back to my one true love and the OTP to rule all OTPs that goes along with it- Kingdom Hearts and Strifehart.

This fic draws on some headcanon stuff from roleplays done with a friend of mine.


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